


Hunger Strike

by chaynik



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Random female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 03:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11222583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaynik/pseuds/chaynik
Summary: dettlaff tries to find a distraction from his hurts. it doesnt go well for the distraction.





	Hunger Strike

**Author's Note:**

> i had to get this out of my system.

            She wasn’t Rhennawedd.

            Then again, Rhennawedd wasn’t even Rhennawedd, she was Syanna. So, this woman writhing under him on this bumpy mattress was even one more step removed from what he really wanted. But that’s all right; this would do. This woman was warm and wet and willing and that’s really all that mattered right now. He could hear the way his skin slapped against hers in some obscene, and yet, wholly satisfying way. His knees starting to lose their traction on the sweat stained sheets. The wooden frame of the bed squeaking as it shifted beneath them. He watched as her fingers dug into the discolored sheets of the bed, her back slightly arching up towards him.

            So maybe he had taken Regis’ advice. Maybe he’d decided Regis might be onto something.  Or maybe he didn’t want to be utterly alone. He’d wandered for days, weeks, months, so he thought anyway, he was unsure of how long he’d wandered. He’d left Beauclair and simply roamed. Only taking notice of the passage of time as the seasons changed around him, the towns, the people, the dialects, all shifting as he moved from place to place. He hid effectively well in his own head. It wasn’t for a long while until he remembered what Regis had said about living amongst the humans. It wasn’t for a long while until he felt as alone as he actually was.

            He watched as her blunt teeth burrowed into her pink bottom lip; upon releasing, a rush of blood pooled back into the skin, filling it out nicely. He couldn’t stop the growl that escaped his throat, his eyes went wide. His mind kept wandering and drifting; he was never in the moment. His thoughts went in every which direction, despite his current physical activity. After all, this woman wasn’t Rhennawedd: her name had fully escaped him by this point. It didn’t matter though, she didn’t matter. She would serve a purpose for him and then that would be that. Maneuvering her into a different position had been easy and from behind he could sort of pretend it was Rhennawedd sweating and moaning underneath him, but imagining hurt considerably. He’d found that if he pretended too much it would hurt very badly again, as though it were a brand-new cut all over again. He ground his teeth together and moved his hips harder, quicker, his eyes rolling back into his head briefly; he didn’t want to hurt again.

           The woman’s moans were grating on his nerves now. They weren’t Rhennawedd’s sounds, this wasn’t Rhennawedd’s body, and it certainly wasn’t what he _really_ wanted. But what he’d really wanted was gone. Though now, looking back on the whole affair, it may never have even been. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to suppress that constant feeling of betrayal that he’d been carrying with him. But it was always there, always attentive, an all-powerful whisper in his mind and an ever-constant burn in his heart. He moved faster, trying to get away from himself, if for only a few moments. He had resigned himself to this long ago; he knew Rhennawedd was no more, rather, that Rhennawedd had never been. He didn’t know how Regis did it, how did he see humans as more then objects, things, cattle?

           Shaking his head, dark hair falling into his eyes briefly, he tried to rid himself of distracting thoughts. He moved quicker, hoping to get to the end and take his leave. Her moans were becoming softer and her groans were getting louder. In his mind’s eye, he could see Rhennawedd’s smiling face under him, the way she always held onto his arms, her nails digging into his flesh, the heels of her feet pressing into his back, her long dark hair pooled out behind her head and the way her mouth would fall open, but still curve into that devious smile. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking about what he’d had. He leaned forward, his right hand on the white wall and his left pushing the woman under him down into the mattress. He could feel the sweat on her back as his palm contacted her skin; he hissed through his teeth at the feeling. Remembering how it felt to touch Rhennawedd.

          He was getting angry; she had tricked him. She had seduced him and lied to him and used him. It felt awful, like some horrible gnawing animal in the pit of his stomach. He could feel himself filling up with rage, the woman under him began to squirm uncomfortably under his weight. He was moving with a ferocity that was obviously not something she was used to. His eyes closed as he moved faster, harder, and the woman under him started to make muffled noises, struggling movements. Her face now pushed against the mattress fully, her air way blocked. Her legs were starting to bend upwards, swinging wildly on the bed. Her hands came up, as best they could from that position, and smacked into him haphazardly. He kept pounding into her, ignoring her muffled sounds and her struggles. His eyes shot open, fixing on the wall in front of him. He kept seeing her face in his mind, wondering if it truly had all been a ruse, had it really meant _nothing_?

         He pounded into the woman under him with a few more movements. He leaned forward harder, with more force, the muffling sounds becoming more distressed. Her hands flailed wildly and her nails came up to scratch at him, hard, but he paid it no heed, as his mind was elsewhere. He kept staring ahead, at the wall. His teeth squealed as they clinked together tightly, grinding against one another. His claws digging in, leaving deep gouges in the plaster wall. Unthinkingly, or perhaps uncaringly, they also dug deep gouges into the woman’s back. At this her whole body tried to shift and jolt away, dramatically heaving upwards. The white dirty sheets turning crimson around her pale, bruised skin. He didn’t look down; he didn’t stop. She thrashed with everything she had trying to get away. Her screams muffled by the mattress her face was thrust down into. He kept ramming down on her form, forcing her face further into the mattress. Her hot breath saturated her own skin against the dirty sheet she was laying on. Her throat was hot and tight and desperately searching for air. She was going still under him: her flailing limbs ceased, her breathing rattled to a halt, her eyes rolled back in her head and she went still. He took no notice of the change. Simply groaning as he finished. Grinding to a halt and dismounting as quickly as he could.

          As he got up to leave he recognized that none of this was what he’d thought it’d be. He got dressed slowly and felt that it wasn’t at all relieving. As he left, the door creaking shut behind him, he realized that it didn’t make him feel any better about anything.

          She still wasn’t Rhennawedd.  


End file.
